Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 222: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

224 SPRING-HEEL D JACK: which rumbled through one of the large thoroughfares of London, but listened ser iously to the tones of the iron ‘tonoues which boomed forth the hour of midnicht, he would have ordered the driver to stop, or to turn his horse’s head in another direction, rather than have continued on his way, with his blood fired with the lowest of passions, and his heart throbbing at the prospect of eratification and revenge. The occupant of ‘that coach was the mer rehant, Ralph Grasper—the persecutor of the forger’s wife, poor Jane Slater. We left him with the ill-fated woman near the grave of her suicide husband, anxious to obtain a coach to convey them home to his residence, But as he walked along, he suddenly altered hisresolves. It struck him as probable that our hero had escaped the pursuit of the patrol, and that he would seek Jane at her dwelling, and, not find- ing her there, ‘that it was likely he should seek to trace her out. “He might suspect me of knowing her wher eabouts, ” he muttered, ‘and pay a visit to my house. T am not the only inhabitant of the villa, or her presence there’ could be easily con- cealed. Besides, it would be bad policy. She must not go there. I will take her another road, and place her in the charge of sonieone whom gold will buy to’ any crime. Let me see —of whom ean I think? ‘Surely I should know a few whose scruples are easily overcome at the sight of a few coins. for one ora dozen such persons to suitimy pur- pose, for there are few men who have more dealings with the callous-hearted than?I have. There would be no fear of any punishment following their services to me in this case, for she is decidedly mad, and I doubt if she ‘will ever be sane again. By. heavens! fate seems to play into my hands, now, for nothing could be better for my pur pose. Her createst enemy she believes her ‘dearest friend : her loathing has turned to love, and that love shall destroy ‘her. But I am wandering from the present subject. To whom ' can I consign’héer 2?) Ah !'I have it— that’s the fellow.‘ He’d sell his'soul for a crown, and no better locality could be found to suit my purpose. She' has but one friend, I- believe— this Sprmoetheeled Jack, ‘curse him !~and he would never think to seek her there. there will I carry her. Bill Jackson dare not refuse to pander to my wishes, for he isin my power. Bah! the fellow will jump at the chance of obtaining money for drink,—no matter how it comes. That’s decided, then. I’m glad I thought of it. That will entirely prevent all suspicion—all curiosity. Ah! ha! Master Jack! I shall outwityou yet, and the wife shall feel my revenge, as did her husband.” Vacantly gazing upon the ground, the de- mented young creature walked quietly along resting upon the arm of the merchant as he thus plotted and planned. But as he turned his gaze upon her’ expressionless features she looked up in his face with a smile. “Come along, Jane,” he said, to be so kind to you.” ‘You are always kind,” she replied. ‘ Don’t “T am going fee Better and better. the eravel on the cross roads. for her husband. None. but. the devil .ecould have turned her imagination that way. keep her mind in that vein, for: nothing beter I ought not'to be’ at a+loss |. blushed deeper than the roses that hung around Yes !. THE TERROR OF LONDON. you remember, when first we met, I said I knew you would always love me ?” Grasper looked surprised at this remark, but quickly recovering himself, he replied— ““ Oh, yes. That was” He paused, for he saw that she evidently mistoolx him for someone else, and desired her to give him his cue where to continue, so as to humour her whim, and ineraft himself still more in her favour. | “ Why, at my father’s cottage. Don’t you recollect the evening when you first came ? How we sat in’ the little. porch, where the c'mabing rose hung above our heads. “To be sure I ido: | How can I, ever forgat that evening?” said Grasper. ‘Let me seé. What did you callme then?” 2. 4 i 7” “Why, James, didn't I?” . air ““ Certainly you did.” “‘And’ you called’ me, pretty: a ane, and anid you loved me so dearly, and asked me if I would not be your little wife. Oh! and didn’t I feel the blood rush:to my face} and could. not say byes then, although I’m sure I meant it.” | £ Egad ! !”~ muttered | Grasper to : Himself ‘Sheitakes me’ for him who, with the brand of felon on his brow, lies beneath She ‘mistakes'‘me Imust could suit my purpose. And the villain ciueklea i himself as cr : poor wretch clung closer to his side. “Al! I knew that you mean’ tyes, though: you “My heart_told me that you us,” said. Grasper. loved: me, Jane, and so you didy’}. .. « iI did—I did ! t And I was: so unhappy when you. were gone, and the days appeared,;so long after that, tilleyou came again. Did they not tb ou 4” ba Every. hour peed a ‘year, dene J: ane,” said the wily rascal. “I thought of.yow all day, dreamed of you all mighty and never was happy till we again met. ‘And oh! what a sia he it not 2 a “Tt was the happiest aie a of | my life,” oie replied, and for a moment her dull eye kindled. | But like the drop. of. grease’ let’ fall. upon thie lichted wick, the: sudden. br ightness vanished on the instant, ‘and, left. the lustr elegs orbs. mngre leaden than hetowe: acl, + {noe eed That sudden gleam of, reason was al ‘arrow. to the heart of Ralph Grasper ;° but, as) une eye deadened he became more’at ease. .. ‘Tt was the happiest) hour of my aiatpneak said Jane, after a moment’s pause.. “ For it was then I promised _ to be your wife, dear James. And you swore to be true to me, and love me ever.’ iA ‘“‘ And do I not keep my word ?”’ The woman sighed. Ralph br eathed less freely again. “Why do you sigh, Jane he asked, almost tremulously. ‘I will tell you,” she said, pausing eeanity, and pressing her white hand npon his arm, ‘Tell me, dear one,” said the wily rascal, in tones as soft as he could possibly use. Jane looked anxiously around her. a _ LE ES oS 7 - ‘Then, as if | cComicbooks.com